Nikki*

You are a feeling,
Always present, a spectre,
A mere memory, once so
Vibrant. You feel like an
Empty spot in my very being.

Once there was joy and life,
All that is and was and
Will be is now bitter-sweet,
Tossed in the smoking fire.

Nothing but your number
Your name, your eyes,
You are a space where once
Was hope and care and peace,
These things burn up as well.

I gave up, and cast your memory
Into the fire, you will always be
Nothing but the smoke that climbs
Into the air and nothing else.